[Bad username or site: rodney @ mckay] While I'm deeply concerned about the gross violation of my person with respect to the implantation of the neural device, is anyone besides me having more fun than is legal being able to control things with their mind? And just out of curiosity, did any of the rest of you who weren't born here have anything nearly so invasive or so useful?
.003 Food trucks! The sheer quantity of food trucks serving every delicacy apparently known to man in this awful city is the one truly redeeming feature of a festival that seems determined to involve Rodney at every turn. He's been systematic about taking advantage of this particular opportunity. First: hound the vendor about ingredients. Second: Add the food to his list that he's literally keeping in his head regarding his feelings about whatever delicacy he's about to partake in. Third: Cuss out vendors who leave off important ingredients such as ones he's allergic or really, really doesn't like.
Honestly, the worst part about the sheer quantity of fish is the equally massive quantity of lemon incorporated into dishes that contain it. Turning to the nearest festival-goer unlucky enough to be within McKay radius, he thrusts his most recent fishy acquisition into their hands and says, "Here. This one would probably kill me."
Without waiting for a response, he begins to berate the vendor (who gives as good as they take after the first shocked instant).
.006 Hoverbike chase! The question really isn't 'why was Rodney McKay trying to enter a den of vice and iniquity and also possibly crime?' The question is 'how useful is an engineering degree and experience hot-wiring alien vehicles?'
The answer is 'very, incredibly useful.' The hover bikes are an Earth-based technology, too, and their innards doubly easy to manipulate. Granted, he hadn't expected his attempt to gain entry into the horrifying dystopian speakeasy to explode in quite so dramatic a fashion. He really hopes he's stealing the bike of one of the people after him, though. Depriving the chaser of their vehicle is practically the first law of intergalatic fugitism.
He glances at the innocent bystander who...probably is in the wrong place at the wrong time (?) and offers in a harried, slightly panicky tone of voice, "You want me to fix one up for you, too? Because, uh, they're...not happy with me and unless you get a move on you might get caught in the--"
Fluttering one hand at the side of his head, he slips the connection, shorts the starter, and crows a triumphant, "Ahha!" just as some very tough customers boil out of the shady establishment at his back and proceed to do a lot of pointing and yelling.
[Tbh, this is absolutely just an excuse for a hoverbike chase.]
.008 Kaiju! Rodney does have to say that 'Kaiju' is not something he had seen coming. As such, he's caught out on his way from point A to point B when the first earthquake-like shocks hit, and he's not under cover (though not for lack of running screaming) when the actual giant monster and the tiny baby monsters it sheds like murderous dandruff start menacing his escape route.
Never let it be said that Rodney shirks his heroic opportunities. By which means Rodney shrieks extremely loudly and starts herding everyone in the cut-off crowd with him away from the horrifying dog-like pus-creatures intent on their rampage. "This way!" There has to be a door to some sort of shelter in that direction also--and it has the added bonus of less Kaiju-lite blocking their way.
...the problem being the monster at their back. Luckily, Rodney is a pro at ordering people around. He points at a likely candidate caught in the crowd with him and says, "You--you look dangerous. Go...go kick it or hit it or something."
.012 Space! While the position is far, far beneath him--a minor engineering on a barge weighted down with commodities and headed for the lunar colony--he needs credentials and his new identity doesn't have any to speak of. Plus, tending the engines is the best and most immediate way to poke around a real life example of this Earth's space-faring technology and compare it to the X-series tech he's familiar with.
Unfortunately, that means he's trapped in a small space with the unwashed also crewing the barge. At least the trip is short. Still, a man must eat.
The itsy bitsy crew mess (or whatever they called it) wasn't crowded, thank goodness, and Rodney didn't exactly feel compelled toward small-talk, but it was either that or try and find something else to look at in the shoebox they were expected to eat their meals in.
"So," Rodney said, and the word was as excruciatingly awkward in the otherwise quiet as he feared it would be. He forged onward. "What do you do?"
.013 Wildcard!
[I default to prose, but brackets are good too! I'll match.]
Rodney McKay | Stargate Atlantis
[Bad username or site: rodney @ mckay]
While I'm deeply concerned about the gross violation of my person with respect to the implantation of the neural device, is anyone besides me having more fun than is legal being able to control things with their mind? And just out of curiosity, did any of the rest of you who weren't born here have anything nearly so invasive or so useful?
.003 Food trucks!
The sheer quantity of food trucks serving every delicacy apparently known to man in this awful city is the one truly redeeming feature of a festival that seems determined to involve Rodney at every turn. He's been systematic about taking advantage of this particular opportunity. First: hound the vendor about ingredients. Second: Add the food to his list that he's literally keeping in his head regarding his feelings about whatever delicacy he's about to partake in. Third: Cuss out vendors who leave off important ingredients such as ones he's allergic or really, really doesn't like.
Honestly, the worst part about the sheer quantity of fish is the equally massive quantity of lemon incorporated into dishes that contain it. Turning to the nearest festival-goer unlucky enough to be within McKay radius, he thrusts his most recent fishy acquisition into their hands and says, "Here. This one would probably kill me."
Without waiting for a response, he begins to berate the vendor (who gives as good as they take after the first shocked instant).
.006 Hoverbike chase!
The question really isn't 'why was Rodney McKay trying to enter a den of vice and iniquity and also possibly crime?' The question is 'how useful is an engineering degree and experience hot-wiring alien vehicles?'
The answer is 'very, incredibly useful.' The hover bikes are an Earth-based technology, too, and their innards doubly easy to manipulate. Granted, he hadn't expected his attempt to gain entry into the horrifying dystopian speakeasy to explode in quite so dramatic a fashion. He really hopes he's stealing the bike of one of the people after him, though. Depriving the chaser of their vehicle is practically the first law of intergalatic fugitism.
He glances at the innocent bystander who...probably is in the wrong place at the wrong time (?) and offers in a harried, slightly panicky tone of voice, "You want me to fix one up for you, too? Because, uh, they're...not happy with me and unless you get a move on you might get caught in the--"
Fluttering one hand at the side of his head, he slips the connection, shorts the starter, and crows a triumphant, "Ahha!" just as some very tough customers boil out of the shady establishment at his back and proceed to do a lot of pointing and yelling.
[Tbh, this is absolutely just an excuse for a hoverbike chase.]
.008 Kaiju!
Rodney does have to say that 'Kaiju' is not something he had seen coming. As such, he's caught out on his way from point A to point B when the first earthquake-like shocks hit, and he's not under cover (though not for lack of running screaming) when the actual giant monster and the tiny baby monsters it sheds like murderous dandruff start menacing his escape route.
Never let it be said that Rodney shirks his heroic opportunities. By which means Rodney shrieks extremely loudly and starts herding everyone in the cut-off crowd with him away from the horrifying dog-like pus-creatures intent on their rampage. "This way!" There has to be a door to some sort of shelter in that direction also--and it has the added bonus of less Kaiju-lite blocking their way.
...the problem being the monster at their back. Luckily, Rodney is a pro at ordering people around. He points at a likely candidate caught in the crowd with him and says, "You--you look dangerous. Go...go kick it or hit it or something."
.012 Space!
While the position is far, far beneath him--a minor engineering on a barge weighted down with commodities and headed for the lunar colony--he needs credentials and his new identity doesn't have any to speak of. Plus, tending the engines is the best and most immediate way to poke around a real life example of this Earth's space-faring technology and compare it to the X-series tech he's familiar with.
Unfortunately, that means he's trapped in a small space with the unwashed also crewing the barge. At least the trip is short. Still, a man must eat.
The itsy bitsy crew mess (or whatever they called it) wasn't crowded, thank goodness, and Rodney didn't exactly feel compelled toward small-talk, but it was either that or try and find something else to look at in the shoebox they were expected to eat their meals in.
"So," Rodney said, and the word was as excruciatingly awkward in the otherwise quiet as he feared it would be. He forged onward. "What do you do?"
.013 Wildcard!
[I default to prose, but brackets are good too! I'll match.]